A Real Green Dress
by hotchityhotchhotch
Summary: Oneshot. Hotch and Emily go on their first night out after the birth of their baby. Fluffity fluff fluff. COMPLETE.


**A/N: Just a bit of pointless (but still cute) fluff for SSAEmilyHotchner's birthday! It's a belated gift, but hopefully still enjoyable. Her prompts were Shakespeare, the color green, and stilettos. **

**Enjoy! And happy birthday, SSAEmilyHotchner!**

"I'm not sure I can do it," Emily said, her arm hanging over the edge of the crib so she could run the back of her finger up and down the slowly rising and falling tummy of Hotch's and her slumbering twelve-week-old son.

"Yes, you can," Hotch said, taking Emily's hand and giving it a squeeze. "Besides, we can't miss Garcia playing Ophelia, it's Hamlet's last night."

"You're sure about the sitter?" Emily asked, taking her hand away and pushing a lock of brown hair from the baby's forehead.

Hotch closed his eyes and tried not to breathe audibly. "She's been Jack's backup sitter for a couple of years now—you know this—and I got written references for families with newborns that she's sat for. References you've read. She's in college, doesn't have a boyfriend, and she's great at conflict resolution. Everything's going to be just fine. You need to relax."

"Okay, okay. What time is it?" Emily asked, checking her watch and fiddling with the overly clingy fabric of her dress. Maternity leave had been mostly full of sweatpants and maternity jeans while she tried to shed the baby weight. This was the first dress she'd been able to zip again. "Two minutes till she's supposed to be here. She should be here by now."

"You're not even ready yet," Hotch pointed out, rolling his eyes and noting Emily's bare feet.

"Right. Shoes. Am I forgetting anything else?" Emily asked, hurrying to their bedroom and picking up a pair of shining stilettos.

Hotch shamelessly let his mind wander as watched her slip her shoes on. "Actually, I think the play's another night," he said with a sneaky grin. "Why don't we just shut the door—"

"Why?" Jack asked, walking into Hotch and Emily's bedroom.

"No reason," Emily said. "You excited to see your babysitter again?"

Jack nodded eagerly. "She lets me stay up late."

"_With my permission_," Hotch said to Emily, who looked wary of a babysitter who didn't listen to instructions.

A knock sounded at the front door, sending Jack running into the hall and down the stairs. "It's her, Daddy!"

"I'll go get the instructions," Emily said, fumbling a little in her first steps in heels in many months.

"Did you at least whittle it down to one page?" Hotch asked.

Two pages, but they're on the same sheet of paper," Emily said. "Go let Katie in before Jack explodes."

—

The couple arrived at the theater with plenty of time to spare, as it turned out, so they took a stroll around a nearby park. It was their first walk alone in quite a while.

"We might have to stop at the bank on our way home," Hotch said. "How much cash do you have on you?"

"Sixty, I think, why?"

"I promised the sitter twenty an hour and I don't like to give her checks. Kids like cash. We'll need to stop."

"_Twenty_ dollars an _hour_?" Emily marveled. "She's there to make sure Jack doesn't burn the house down and to feed and change the baby once. You want us to pay her, what, eighty bucks for that?"

"If that's all she's doing, then where did the fifty other bullet points on your instruction sheet come from?" Hotch quipped. "Don't worry about the money. You can't put a price on the kids' safety, you know that."

Emily calmed down and clutched Hotch's arm. "I know. I just…I've worried a lot more about money ever since we found out we were having a baby."

"I know you have, but we're doing just fine," Hotch reassured her. "You know, if we start saving a certain amount now, we could have a million put away by the time we retire."

"Yeah, right," Emily scoffed. "Not with today's interest rates. Let's face it. We'll be working until we're ninety and then a couple years later we'll be in the cheapest nursing home the kids can find us."

Hotch chuckled. "It is fun to think about, though. Being rich. What would you do if you had a million dollars?"

Emily stopped them at a wooden bench and they sat, their bodies turned so they could remain absorbed in one another. A crisp autumn breeze moved them closer together.

Emily smiled with dreamily closed eyes and grasped Hotch's knee. "As much as I love my job, I think I'd take some time off and have us spend a few years traveling with the kids. Then buy a bigger house. Then put the rest away for college."

"That sounds like a nice plan," Hotch said.

Emily reached over and straightened out Hotch's tie. "What about you? What would you do if you had a million dollars? Would you buy me…a real green dress?"

"Huh?"

Emily laughed at Hotch's limited knowledge of post-seventies music. "Never mind. That's cruel."

"You gonna tell me what you're talking about?" Hotch asked.

"Nope, I think I'm gonna sit on it for a while. It's funny. Okay, I think we should head in now."

"Maybe we can take a longer walk afterwards, go get some ice cream?" Hotch suggested.

"As long as you don't let me eat too much." Emily cringed when she stood up.

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"These shoes are not comfortable."

"I didn't think they were made to be," Hotch said. "Aren't those your—_you-know_—heels?"

Emily's eyes slowly widened in delight. "You know about my fuck-me heels, but you still can't curse around me, can you?"

"It's not just you. I don't say that word around anyone," Hotch insisted. "Not a gentlemanly thing to say."

"Oh, you totally say it," Emily said with a husky laugh.

"Prove it."

Emily grabbed hold of Hotch's arm and steered them toward the theater. "I will when we get home."

**A/N: Reviews are love!**


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